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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113422">Freaky (Un)Fortunate Friday</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller'>HopeStoryteller</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RWBY</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Why Are There So Many Qrow Tags?), (a lot), Bodyswap, Flustered Qrow Branwen, Gay, Gay Panic, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, M/M, Parent Qrow Branwen, Penny is on her way to being Kid #9, Qrow Branwen Swears, Qrow and his eight kids, Sleep Deprivation, Swearing, Texting, freaky friday AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 01:27:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeStoryteller/pseuds/HopeStoryteller</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It’s too damn early. Way too damn early for anything, the sun’s not even up and yet his goddamn scroll is buzzing away. Qrow mumbles something incoherent and particularly insulting under his breath as he fumbles for it, directed in the general direction of whoever is texting him at way-too-fucking-early o’clock in the morning.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>He’s. Not. Awake. Not awake, not awake, not awake.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>DING!</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Goddammit he’s not getting back to sleep, is he.</i>
</p><hr/><p>In which it's debatable whose semblance caused this but it could easily be a strange mix of both, Qrow is nowhere near as smooth as he thinks he is, and sleeping in is all well and good when you're in your own body and not in that of Clover "Likes-To-Get-Up-At-Ass-O'Clock" Ebi.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marrow Amin &amp; Harriet Bree &amp; Clover Ebi &amp; Elm Ederne &amp; Vine Zeki, Qrow Branwen &amp; Ruby Rose, Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>118</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Freaky (Un)Fortunate Friday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s too damn early. Way too damn early for anything, the sun’s not even up and yet his goddamn scroll is buzzing away. Qrow mumbles something incoherent and particularly insulting under his breath as he fumbles for it, directed in the general direction of whoever is texting him at way-too-fucking-early o’clock in the morning.</p><p>He runs a hand through his hair, rubs his eyes as he squints at the screen. A few minutes after six, yep, <em> way </em> too damn early. Whatever’s so important can goddamn wait until he’s had another three hours of sleep and at least one cup of coffee. He sets the scroll down again, slings an arm across his face, and shuts his eyes again.</p><p>His scroll pings <em> again. </em> He fumbles around for a pillow and throws it on top. <em> Maybe </em> he’ll get lucky, for once in his life, and it’ll muffle the sound. Maybe that mission he has at ten will mysteriously get canceled and he can keep on sleeping, too, and while he’s at it maybe he’ll wake up and everything will be fine, Beacon won’t have fallen and Summer won’t have died and Yang won’t have lost an arm and both of the girls won’t have lost a friend.</p><p>It <em> does </em> muffle it a little, the next time it pings, but nowhere near enough. Qrow audibly groans. He wrenches his eyes further shut, in the faint hope that whoever’s texting him will <em> shut the fuck up already </em> . He’s <em> not awake </em>, he should have put his scroll on silent last night, honestly he swears he remembers putting his scroll on silent last night but it’s just his luck he forgot.</p><p>He’s. Not. Awake. Not awake, not awake, not <em> awake </em>.</p><p>
  <em> DING! </em>
</p><p>Goddammit he’s not getting back to sleep, is he. Qrow opens his eyes, pushes himself up sleepily. Grabs for the scroll, unlocks the screen—</p><p>What the fuck, did he change the passcode in the middle of the night, too? Whatever. He’ll get one of the kids to look at it later. Penny, maybe, she’s extremely good at getting around things like pesky midnight passcode changes and that’s not just because she’s a robot. Although being a robot probably helps.</p><p>Scroll still locked, he scrolls down to see what he can on the lock screen. Few new messages, all from… oh, Clover. Although he’s in Qrow’s scroll as <em> Cutie </em> with a heart emoji next to the name.</p><p>Let it not be said that Qrow stopped having fun with his contact names when he graduated Beacon. Or ever did, really. Although this is really just the latest in a sequence of names that would be thoroughly embarrassing for the man in question to ever see, particularly considering that he’s <em> probably </em> just flirting around for shits and giggles.</p><p>Anyway. It’s <em> Clover </em> who’s texting him this early in the morning. Because of fucking course it is. He <em> would </em> be the type to get up at six in the morning to work out, or something. Qrow could see him doing pushups with one arm behind his back and a rose stuck between his teeth. That would be about the usual Clover levels of dramatic.</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: uh hey Qrow, you awake? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: I’m guessing that’s a solid “probably not, why would I ever be willingly awake this early” which haha can’t relate </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: which is. a slight issue. for reasons you’ll understand once you wake up. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: and uhhhh </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: you really do need to wake up sooner rather than later for. reasons. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: what the hell lucky charm youd better have a good reason for this </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: good you’re awake! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: no thanks to you messing up my beauty sleep </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: aww, you don’t need sleep to be beautiful though </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: im going back to bed </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: Qrow please 1) take the compliment and 2) whatever you do do NOT go back to bed </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: haha you said doodoo </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: ok fine whats up </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: have. you not figured it out yet. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: if the kids pulled a prank on you i accept no responsibility for their actions </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: yeah so somehow I doubt the kids are involved with this one </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: where are you right now? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: in my bed where i was quite happily snoozing away </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: are you sure about that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: where else would i be </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: ok fine you have a mirror in your room right </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: since you got a spare room in the Ace Operative wing and all that </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: yeeeeees </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: please just. look into it real quick. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: why though </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: Qrow I’m literally begging you </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: eh ok </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Me: i had a whole argument lined up about having to get out of bed but whatever </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cutie♡: mirror. now. please. </em>
</p><p>Qrow sighs, shrugs to himself, and shrugs off the covers. Sliding out of bed, particularly this early, is one hell of a chore. But whatever. He’ll humor Clover, this sounds pretty urgent. And then he is going right back to bed if he has to throw his scroll out the window to do it.</p><p>He shuffles vaguely across the room, finds the bathroom and pulls open the door. He’d initially objected to being so far away from his kids, but eh. They can take care of themselves, and he’d just feel even more alone in a room with three empty beds. This way, he gets his own bathroom. Which is nice. </p><p>He rubs his eyes blearily, turns to face the mirror and look into it like Clover said. He does, and blinks. Several times. Whacks himself on the side of the head to make sure he’s not hallucinating, which maybe wasn’t the best idea but considering who’s staring back at him, <em> can you really blame him? </em> No. No, you can’t.</p><p>Instead of red eyes staring back, there’s a brilliant teal. Instead of the scruffy grey-streaked dark hair that’s, you know, <em> his </em>, there’s that brown spiked up in that way that Qrow thought must have been a barbershop’s nightmare but now, seeing it slightly mussed, is probably the result of quite a lot of hair product. And, strangely enough, there’s a bit of grey-blue growing in at the roots. Either Clover’s going grey very suddenly, he dyes his hair, or a weird mixture of both.</p><p>He can’t ignore it now that it’s so obvious. Instead of Qrow’s own face staring back at him, it’s the face of the man he’s been kind of, sort of, lowkey flirting back and forth with for the past few weeks. And the body, and what the fuck even <em> are </em> these pajamas? Clover had, apparently, gone to sleep in a bright green tank top and clover-dotted sweatpants, because of fucking course he had.</p><p>“What the fuck,” Qrow says aloud. Says it again for good measure, because what the <em> fuck </em> is it disconcerting to hear Clover’s voice come out of his own mouth. Except it’s not his mouth, it’s Clover’s, which he may or may not have thought about kissing passionately more times than he’d like to admit.</p><p><em> What the fuck, Qrow, not the time. </em> Not that it’ll ever be the time but, shh.</p><p>He makes it back to his scroll—or well, Clover’s scroll, which explains why he hadn’t known the goddamn passcode—after spending a few confused, still-tired seconds looking around the room and confirming okay, yeah, this definitely isn’t his room, that’s Kingfisher in the corner. Not Harbinger. Harbinger is in his room, with… Clover… in his body.</p><p>What. The. Fuck.</p><p>He fumbles with the scroll, sees a new text from Clover with the passcode. He plugs it in, hits the call button, waits for him to pick up.</p><p><em> “Please </em> fucking pick up,” Qrow mumbles to no one in particular, and then he does.</p><p>“So I’m guessing you’ve figured it out by now,” says his own voice.</p><p>“Yeah,” Qrow agrees, in Clover’s. “What the fuck?”</p><p>“Yeah, that’s… about how I reacted too,” Clover says sheepishly. “I’m guessing you have about as much idea of what’s going on as I do?”</p><p>“Got it in one.” Qrow sucks in a breath. “For the record, your PJs are terrible, do you <em> dye </em> your hair? Also. Can we talk about your contact name for me? Because, really?”</p><p>“My PJs are great, <em> yours </em> have <em> sleeves </em> ,” Clover says defensively. “As a matter of fact, yes I do dye my hair brown, and I don’t think you’re in any position to talk about <em> my </em> name for <em> you </em> considering <em> your </em> name for <em> me </em> is currently <em> pretty boy </em>.”</p><p>Qrow makes a noise that’s more of an undignified squawk than anything else, and decides to change the subject. “Fair. Okay. So… what do we do?”</p><p>Brief silence from Clover. “Well, what <em> can </em> we do besides… I don’t know, try and figure out what happened and hope for the best?”</p><p>“Hoping for the best might work for you.”</p><p>He doesn’t bother to say the rest of what he’s thinking, but Clover probably can guess at it anyway: <em> it sure as hell won’t work for me. </em></p><p><em> “Qrow,” </em> Clover says, a warning edge to his voice.</p><p>“You know I’m right. And even if I’m not, I—we. Need a plan.”</p><p>“Figuring out what happened is the best lead we’ve got, unless you’ve got a better idea?”</p><p>Qrow grumbles under his breath. Clover’s got him there, although… actually, maybe there’s something. He goes to the main screen of his—Clover’s—scroll, careful not to end the call, and checks the date.</p><p>“Friday the Thirteenth,” Qrow mutters. “It’s <em> Friday the fucking Thirteenth.” </em></p><p>“Old superstitions don’t explain how we somehow switched bodies.”</p><p>“Unless they do.”</p><p>A sigh. “Even if they do, how do we switch back? If it’s because it’s a specific day, maybe everything’ll go back to normal tomorrow. Might as well wait it out and see before we try anything drastic.”</p><p>“Clover. <em> Clover. </em> You don’t seem to be getting that things are <em> already kind of drastic here. </em> I can’t pretend to be you!”</p><p>Clover is suspiciously silent.</p><p>“No,” Qrow says firmly. “No, no, <em> absolutely not. </em> The Ops will be expecting <em> good </em> luck and bad puns, not bad luck and sleep deprivation!”</p><p>“Seems like you’ve got a pretty good idea of how to pretend to be me. How about I pretend to be you?”</p><p>
  <em> “No.” </em>
</p><p>“Hi, I’m Qrow Branwen, I can’t take a compliment if my life depends on it!” Clover laughs. “Seriously, though, just pretend to be confident. Fake it ‘till you make it. It’s what I do. Works pretty well.”</p><p>“You? <em> Not </em> confident? <em> Ever? </em>”</p><p>“Happens more often than you’d think. We’re not as different as you clearly think we are, Qrow. Just… try, okay? If it helps, you’ve got about twenty minutes until Elm thinks I died or something and breaks down the door.”</p><p>“That is the absolute <em> furthest </em> thing from helping. How the fuck am I supposed to get your uniform on in twenty minutes? I can’t get <em> my </em> outfit on in twenty minutes and I’ve been wearing variations on the same clothes for twenty <em> years!” </em></p><p>“You don’t need the uniform, just… okay, get in the closet.” </p><p>“No thank you, I’m perfectly happy being out of the closet.”</p><p>Clover goes completely silent. For a few moments, Qrow thinks he’s broken him, somehow. Then, after what seems like forever, Clover audibly snorts.</p><p>“See, you’re a natural at being me! Actually, though, we need to hurry. Or you need to hurry, I’m guessing you don’t have much of a morning routine.”</p><p>“Absolutely the <em> fuck </em> not. I legally don’t exist before nine in the morning. Later if I don’t have a mission to go on.”</p><p>“Why am I not surprised? At least that makes my end of things easier.” Clover sounds almost fond. “Anyway: closet. Grab an Academy tee, shorts, and some running shoes. Shouldn’t take too long to put on.”</p><p>“Academy tee, shorts, running shoes,” Qrow repeats. It doesn’t quite click for his sleep-deprived brain until he’s changed out of Clover’s pajamas and into what seems suspiciously like exercise gear. “You’re going running with Elm? I thought you and the Ops weren’t friends.”</p><p>“We’re coworkers,” Clover agrees, “but we all get along differently. Hare’s the one who hates everybody. Elm and I are the early birds, we go jogging around Atlas Academy while it’s still dark out. A few of the students like to join us, sometimes, but most days it’s just the two of us.”</p><p>“I can’t believe I’m seriously considering this.”</p><p>“You’ve got… let me see, fifteen minutes until Elm breaks down the door, and I’m guessing you’re going to want to get some coffee first. Anything else you need to know? Anything else <em> I </em> need to know?”</p><p>“Coffee is a definite yes. And…” Qrow sighs. “Just stay in your—my—room, my nieces at <em> least </em> will be suspicious if their uncle leaves his room anytime earlier than he has to. Which is nine, because of that mission we have together. Let me know what else I have to do, because going running with Elm can’t <em> possibly </em> take three hours.”</p><p>“After that, a lot of it’s alone. You can give me a call again.”</p><p>“...I hate that you just confirmed you do in fact <em> have </em> an entire morning routine. I’m going to run for the coffee machine in the common room. After this, you’re giving me a crash course on how I should act towards the rest of the Ops because I, like <em> literally all of my kids, </em> was under the impression that <em> you weren’t friends.” </em></p><p>“As long as you give me a crash course on dealing with your kids. I’m guessing <em> no puns </em> but beyond that, who knows?” Clover hesitates. “Well, I guess you do.”</p><p>Qrow laughs. “Yeah. No puns is right, half of them’ll try to exorcise you on the spot and the other half’ll sit back and watch with popcorn and drinks. Anyway, I’d better get going. Seeya, Lucky Charm.”</p><p>He ends the call before Clover can get in a single word, never mind multiple. Stares at Clover’s scroll for a moment. Then, he breaks into snickering.</p><p>Let it not be said that Qrow Branwen doesn’t have a sense of humor. He just doesn’t particularly like making puns. (Other people’s, though, are fair game.)</p><hr/><p>“For the record,” Qrow says as soon as Clover (Cutie♡) picks up, “I hate you.”</p><p>“Running with Elm couldn’t have <em> possibly </em> been that bad,” Clover protests. “You’re in <em> my </em> body, I’ve got <em> plenty </em> of stamina. Although for some reason the amount of sleep I got didn’t…”</p><p>“Stamina had nothing to do with it,” Qrow cuts in just a little too quickly, which has absolutely nothing to do with him hearing <em> stamina </em> and his mind <em> immediately </em> taking a swan dive headfirst into the gutter.</p><p>“Oh. Was Elm teasing you about—”</p><p>“It wasn’t Elm either.”</p><p>“None of the students that usually come are <em> that </em> bad. Well, Miss Katt is… a <em> bit </em> overzealous, but she’s a lot nicer with people she likes, and she’d have no way of knowing you <em> weren’t </em> me.”</p><p>“I have absolutely no idea who that is.” Qrow sighs. He leans back against the wall of Training Room 1-C and shuts his eyes. “It was <em> Winter.” </em></p><p>“Oh. Right. The two of you hate each other for… some reason. Why is that?”</p><p>Qrow glares at the scroll, out of some misguided hope that <em> somehow </em> that’ll be conveyed over voice alone. When that fails, he says, “She thinks I’m immature and foolish. I won’t argue with that, but it’d sure as hell be a lot nicer if she’d remove the stick up her—”</p><p>Clover makes a point of coughing, loudly “Okay, okay, think I got it. But... she thought you were me. So what was the problem? Please tell me you didn’t try to mess with her as me.”</p><p>“I sure didn’t <em> try </em>. Remember what I said about my semblance? As amusing as it was to watch Winter trip and nearly get run over by a military truck—”</p><p>“As amusing as it was to watch <em> what?” </em></p><p>“It was a lot <em> less </em> amusing when she got mad at me for it! I’m pretty sure that took at least ten years off my life. I <em> tried </em> to bullshit my way out of that, because <em> technically </em> it was good luck that she <em> didn’t </em> get hit by a truck. Tripping happens all the time! Really, if you think about it, it was bad luck for me.”</p><p>“You’re this pissed off because of that? That’s it?”</p><p>“Well…” Qrow winces. “No.”</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>“I,” Qrow emphasizes, “was still pretending to be you. So I said, and I quote, <em> my semblance is good fortune, remember? Who here would want you to get run over? Me? Never. </em> And now she thinks you want her to get run over. Because apparently you’re not much for sarcasm.”</p><p>“She thinks I <em> what?” </em></p><p>“Or maybe <em> she’s </em> not much for sarcasm! I wouldn’t be surprised!”</p><hr/><p>Barring the incident with Winter, the rest of Qrow’s morning as Clover goes relatively not terribly. Ignoring the fact that he was woken up at ass o’clock in the morning to find out he’d quite literally switched bodies with the kinda hot military bootlicker that’s been flirting with him for weeks now. </p><p>(Can you blame him for flirting back, <em> maybe </em> once or twice? No. You can’t. Shut the fuck up.)</p><p>If Qrow ever <em> did </em> want to reciprocate, ever wondered if Clover was serious, he definitely doesn’t now that he knows firsthand what the man’s morning routine is like. Get up at ass o’clock in the morning. Go running with Elm and anyone else who wants to come around the Academy grounds for at least an hour. Go work out alone for another hour and/or until the rest of the Ace Ops wake up. Hang out in the briefing room until everyone else is there, which takes another solid hour of (his) kids trickling in one by one, grabbing some kind of caffeinated beverage, and going to chat among themselves until everything’s ready.</p><p>The worst part of all this is that Qrow’s been essentially banned from coffee at the moment, because of <em> course </em> Clover is one of those people who doesn’t drink coffee, or tea, or <em> anything </em> . Sure, Qrow drinks his with ungodly amounts of cream and sugar, but it’s <em> still caffeine. </em> </p><p>Clover is also, unfortunately, much more of a morning person than Qrow is, which is why he and Elm have been regaling the rest of the Ops with the story of what happened earlier between Winter and the truck.</p><p><em> We’re not as different as you clearly think we are, </em> Clover told him. To that Qrow calls bullshit. Qrow’s instincts are screaming for him to pretend nothing happened, but every time he <em> tries </em> to change the subject it’s somehow taken so wrongly that now he’s not even sure how to leave the conversation. Clover, apparently, takes incidents like this in stride and laughs them off.</p><p>“You should have seen the <em> look </em> on her <em> face!” </em> Elm laughs heartily, claps Qrow on the back so hard he would have gone flying if he was in his own body. “Schnee got <em> so </em> mad, it was <em> glorious </em> let me tell ya.”</p><p>“This is all you’ve been telling us for the past hour,” Vine points out. “Or, alright, ten minutes. My point still stands.”</p><p>“As amusing as it is, it’s getting just a <em> little </em> bit old,” Harriet adds.</p><p>“Well, <em> I </em> think it’s funny,” Marrow crosses his arms, manages to look completely serious and would pull it off perfectly if not for his tail wagging away. Nobody tells him, because nobody’s looking at him. Everyone’s looking at… Qrow…</p><p>Qrow realizes, slightly late, that this is the part where Clover would join in and laugh it off.</p><p>“Are you kidding, it was <em> hilarious,” </em> Qrow says with perhaps a touch more enthusiasm than Clover would have had for unintentionally assaulting a superior. “The way she reacted, you would have thought I was <em> Qrow. </em>”</p><p>“Speaking of which,” Harriet elbows him. “Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”</p><p>Qrow glances over his shoulder, and—<em> damn </em> is it weird to see his own body walking in. He doesn’t even look like a zombie, which is probably because of who’s <em> actually </em> in his body, someone who actually gets sleep.</p><p>“Oh come <em> on </em> , Qrow’s not a devil,” Qrow protests, and somehow that’s even stranger than seeing himself chatting with Ruby, matching mugs of steaming beverages in their hands. He really, really hopes that Clover remembered the copious amounts of cream and sugar. Honestly, he might have been better off just saying <em> copy Ruby </em>.</p><p>“Speak of the bird, then. Well? You gonna go talk to him or not?”</p><p>“Uh,” Qrow says intelligently.</p><p>“As loath as I am to say this,” Vine steeples his fingers appraisingly, “you <em> may </em> need to be a bit <em> more </em> obvious.”</p><p>“Assuming that’s possible,” Marrow says wryly. “I’m honestly not sure it is. Maybe he’s just not interested, he can’t possibly be <em> that </em> thick?”</p><p>“He’s definitely interested,” Qrow says before he can stop himself. “He’s just… not good at relationships in general. Or social interaction. He’s used to most people not wanting anything to do with him, for one reason or another, and his kids are being a big help with that but he’s still got a long way to go before he accepts that people do care about him.”</p><p>“Damn, Clover,” Elm remarks, “when did you get so good at reading people?”</p><p>“Bold of you to assume he didn’t tell me that himself,” Qrow says, which isn’t entirely accurate but isn’t entirely <em> inaccurate </em> either. “Anyway. I’m gonna go say hi.”</p><p>“Yep, yep, don’t forget to wear a condom,” comes Harriet’s dry reply.</p><p>It’s a very, very good thing that Qrow’s already turned away when she says that, otherwise the look on his face would have <em> absolutely </em> given him away as Not Clover. Clover probably would have taken that in stride, maybe even made a joke back. Qrow, fortunately, is far enough away that he can pretend not to have heard at all. He’s only got eyes for… yeah okay this is supremely fucked up and the sooner this can get back to normal the better, thanks.</p><p>It really, <em> really </em> doesn’t help that, if <em> he </em> wasn’t Qrow, he’d think nothing was amiss. Clover’s doing a shockingly good job at pretending to be him, down to the easy way he’s sitting up on the counter and sipping his coffee. Sitting on the counter isn’t necessarily <em> not </em> allowed, but it’s certainly the sort of thing that would piss off certain stick-up-their-ass types like one Special Operative who will not be named but nearly got run over earlier. It’s the sort of thing Qrow really, really would <em> not </em> expect Clover to do.</p><p>Admittedly, it’s the sort of thing Qrow does nearly every day for the hell of it, so apparently Clover’s been paying attention. Qrow… really, really isn’t sure how he feels about that.</p><p>“Hi Uncle Clover!” Ruby says cheekily, and suddenly Qrow is greeted by his own face turning as red as his eyes. He’s pretty sure his (Clover’s) face is turning red too.</p><p>It’s in this moment, and not for the first time, that Qrow curses the fact that Ruby inherited her mom’s complete and utter lack of shame. Particularly when his (nonexistent, in case anyone forgot) love life is involved.</p><p>“Hi Ruby,” Qrow manages. “You’re, uh, welcome to call me that if you want?”</p><p>Play it cool. You’re <em> Clover </em> , you <em> have </em> to be cool.</p><p>“I wasn’t asking for permission, but thanks!”</p><p>Clover chokes on his coffee, and promptly does a spit-take directly into Qrow’s face. He barely gets his aura up in time.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Clover asks, and gets a slightly bedraggled nod. “Sorry about that.”</p><p>“It happens,” Qrow chokes out. “Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“Hey, uh, Clover,” Ruby says suddenly, seriously. “What color’s your aura?”</p><p>“Uh, greenish,” Qrow says. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Huh. Good to know. You should probably get changed.”</p><p>Qrow looks down at the uniform of the Ace Ops, in all its formerly pristine glory, and goes, “You’re probably right.”</p><p>“Hey, Uncle Qrow! You should go help him!”</p><p>“I should <em> what?” </em> Clover asks, just as Qrow’s opening his mouth to say <em> no, absolutely the fuck not </em> on instinct. He makes a mental note to thank Clover for the save later.</p><p>Ruby shoots Clover <em> the </em> most exasperated look. “Go. Help. Clover. Do you <em> really </em> want me to spell it out in front of him?”</p><p>“I could. Certainly use some help with…” Qrow trails off. All of a sudden, the <em> perfect </em> excuse hits him. “Well, we’ll need to cover mission assignments soon. I get first pick. You’re welcome to join me.”</p><p>“Ooo!” Ruby bounces on her feet. “Can I come? <em> Pleaaase? </em> Whatcha picking?”</p><p>Slight problem: Qrow’s just realized he doesn’t actually <em> know </em> what the options are today. He grins, because when <em> isn’t </em> Clover grinning, and says, “You’ll see, pipsqueak.”</p><p>He waves and heads out, Clover close behind. Only once they’re safely out of earshot and sight does Qrow let his shoulders sag and go, “Fucking <em> hell </em> , Cloves, being you is <em> exhausting </em>.”</p><p>“Please tell me Hare didn’t,” Clover says without much hope.</p><p>“Let’s hurry up. I have no goddamn <em> idea </em> where you keep your spare uniforms and normally I wouldn’t want to. Also: I have no goddamn idea how to access today’s missions.”</p><p>“Give me that for a moment?” </p><p>Qrow passes over the scroll, and for a few terse moments they walk in silence. Eventually, Clover nods to himself, passes it back. It’s open to a patrol mission: surprisingly low risk, particularly where Clover’s concerned.</p><p>Qrow raises an eyebrow.</p><p>“Have you considered,” Clover says mildly, “that I have little to no idea of how to use <em> your </em> weapon, and you have little to no idea of how to use mine?”</p><p>Qrow opens his mouth. Shuts it. “Fuck.”</p><p>“I’m taking that as a no.”</p><hr/><p>“Ruby,” Qrow says into his earpiece, “can you get to the tower and cover us from there?”</p><p>An affirmative noise from Ruby, and then nothing but a trail of rose petals streaking up the side of the local watchtower. There’s nothing left there now save the building, but it’s a good sniper’s nest regardless</p><p>“C—” Qrow coughs into his fist hurriedly. “Qrow. let’s move. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to draw the Grimm out and they’ll be easy pickings for Ruby.”</p><p>“And if not?” Clover asks, off the mic. Qrow shoots him a look. “I’m getting into character here!”</p><p>Qrow sighs, and taps out of his own. They’re far enough away that Ruby can’t hear them now, probably were, which is why he says, “Crash course in wielding Harbinger: squeeze the handle and the part of the blade extending next to it together, that’ll extend it into its main form.”</p><p>Clover nods and does so. “Sword form.”</p><p>“Black trigger puts it into shotgun form and fires the shotgun. Red button directly opposite the trigger makes it into the scythe, and you probably won’t need anything else. What do I need to know about Kingfisher?”</p><p>“Pretty straightforward. Only straight thing about me.”</p><p><em> “Hey!” </em> Ruby calls. <em> “Either stop flirting or make out already!” </em></p><p>“Ruby,” Clover says, “I don’t—”</p><p>He’s cut off by perhaps the most impulsive decision Qrow has made in his life. In short: Qrow just kissed him. More accurately he, in Clover’s body, just kissed Clover, in his own, but he’s not thinking about that.</p><p>He just. Kissed Clover. And Clover kissed back. He’s dimly aware of Ruby cheering in the background, but not much else. Not until he pulls away and realizes, with some shock, that the eyes he’s staring into are teal.</p><p>“Shit, it worked,” Qrow says in an attempt to deflect from the fact that he just kissed Clover.</p><p>“Oh. Yeah. It did.” Clover sounds almost disappointed.</p><p>
  <em> “So I’m not entirely sure what I just saw, but it looked vaguely like your auras swapped. I’m guessing that means you’re back to normal?” </em>
</p><p>“Wait, you knew?”</p><p>Audible sigh. <em> “I know what color Uncle Qrow’s aura is. Also: pipsqueak.” </em></p><p>“That would do it,” Qrow says sheepishly.</p><p>
  <em> “I’m all for you two continuing to make out. You mind drawing out the Grimm first?” </em>
</p><p>“We can do that,” Clover says, if reluctantly. </p><p>He looks to Qrow, a clear question in those eyes. Eye-wise, Clover was named after the wrong plant. His eyes call to mind, if anything, mint. Qrow never would have found minty eyes so attractive, and yet here he is.</p><p>Romance was the furthest thing from his mind when he came to Atlas, and yet here he is.</p><p>“Yeah, let’s,” Qrow agrees. “Hey, Cloves. You doing anything after this?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wrote this thing for Week 2 of the RWBY Fan Server's Anniversary RWBY Creator Celebration, and <i>wow</i> is that a mouthful. Arguably the biggest server I'm in and the only one where I don't have every channel muted, just. most of them. :D It was definitely a challenge to keep this under 4750 words, and in the end I went right up to the limit with 4749. Now back to studying... fun times! Hope y'all like this, leave a comment if ya did &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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